#so I think it became inflamed

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[albedov]

i hate myself for making myself sad- /lh - spoilers for 2.5

jiaoqiu stared down at the dish in discontent, disgust even. for the first time ever he started poking at the meal with his chopsticks, he never played with his food but you both were well aware he was simply trying to stall, to build up the idea that it wasn't any different to his usual meals and fool himself to a painful change.

ever since his discharge from the healers, they paid you a personal visit with a list of "Doctor's Post-Charge Advice" and a "Treatment Plan". you had taken on the responsibility of helping jiaoqiu take care of himself out of the pure fact that he was your lover and you wanted to help if even a little.

although the one you think he would have the hardest time adjusting to was the simple advice to "avoid spicy foods at all costs".

he had been put on strict diets restrictions to avoid having his wounds inflamed, so it was temporary change but quite the major one. jiaoqiu ate spicy foods because that was all he could taste, all he could feel. now, in spite of everything, he didn't even have that anymore.

"jiao-ge please, you have to eat something" you watched as his face scrunched in disgust at the idea - you knew a part of him was childish or even defiant and so you had taken the liberty of making his meals but he refused to let you do so alone, resigning you to the role of a chaperone. so you both knew the meal wasn't as spicy as usual.

jiaoqiu knew he was being silly. that it was only temporary but he couldn't help it. but he also knew you were sat right beside him, his tail was yet again curled around your leg, a habit he picked up recently. and you wouldn't let him go without eating. so with some difficulty, he had his first bite.

a part of him became even more deflated by the lack of taste. his face visibly dropped and it pained you to know that there was nothing you could do.

"say, if you eat your meals until the dietary restrictions are lifted, when they are we can go buy the spiciest ingredients known and have a proper meal ok?"

it was a difficult change but he'd do it for you.

tbh i love spicy food so i probably would suffer the same-

[muxshwriting]

alone together

Seth Clearwater x reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't realise his own strength. it doesn't usually bother you until you realise that he's leaving something more permanent with his hugs || warnings: bruises, being loved to death, mentions of insecurity (like one sentence), characters aged up to like 18ish || word count: 921 || masterlist

The moment Seth imprinted on you, he knew the rest of his life would be perfect. He'd heard from the others how amazing it felt to find your imprint but no one truly prepared him for when he first saw you. You'd been friends before he shifted but when he saw you again months after that, when he truly saw you, it was like nothing else in the world.

You spent almost every evening at the Clearwater's, your own parents understanding how much Seth meant to you. He quickly became your everything, your day was never good unless you saw him. And your day was never perfect until you were wrapped up in one of his hugs.

"Better?" His arms wrapped around you until they were pressing into your skin. Sometimes you needed to feel like your body wasn't yours, that you and him were one and the same so that his perfectness might rub off on you.

You hum in response, burrowing further into his neck and relishing in his warmth. The pair of you are sitting on the sofa at his house, simply taking time to be with each together without needing to do anything else. "Just a rough day."

His touch sooths you as his comforting weight around your midsection deepens and calms the feeling crawling through your chest. "You wanna talk about it?" His voice is muffled against you but the concern in it has your heart melting.

"No. It's getting better."

"Happy to help."

Almost a week later you're helping Leah bake some cookies for the pack at her house. Seth's out on patrol with a few of the other boys. You lean against the counter before going back to upright with a hiss of pain.

"You okay?"

Your eyes widen as you turn to Leah. "Yeah. It's fine."

"It doesn't sound fine."

"It's just a bruise."

Leah seems to relax that it's not serious. "Oh. How did you bruise your side? Fell off the bike or what?"

You laugh at her suggestion but don't answer the question.

"How'd you do it?"

"Um... It's from Seth."

"From my brother Seth? Your imprint? My little brother Seth?" Leah's face turned cold as her mind ran to the worst possibility.

"Not on purpose!" You're trying to reassure her but it only makes her more suspicious. "I had a rough day at work and stuff ad I just needed him to hold me. But with his wolf strength I guess he hugs a little too tight. I didn't even notice until a couple days ago."

Leah ran her hands through her hair, pulling at it slightly as she processed what she heard. "Does he know?"

"I don't want him to worry. Or not hug me because of it."

"Show me."

Slowly, you pull up the hem of your shirt, revealing the bruised and inflamed skin of your side and bottom of your ribs.

Leah has a sharp intake of breath as she sees the extent on your injury. "We might need to tell my mom about this."

You pull your shirt back down, gently wrapping your arms around you as if to shield yourself. "It's fine." You dismiss.

"It's really not." Leah argues. "Just let her check."

She's not giving in anytime soo so you concede. "Okay. But I don't think she can do anything about it. She's just gonna tell me to put a heat pack on it, which is why I have Seth."

Seth, at that very moment, comes back from patrol and waltzes in. "What do you have me for?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping an arm around your waist. It takes everything in you to not hiss as he rests his hand on the bruise as Leah raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry about it." You kiss him back, letting you senses be surrounded by him for a moment before Leah clears her throat.

"It's not nothing. Tell him."

Seth, ever oblivious, asks "Tell me what?"

You sigh, reaching for the hem of your shirt but not lifting it yet. "You know how I had a rough day last week?"

"Yeah..."

"And you hugged me really tight cos I asked you to?"

"Yeah."

"It kinda left a bruise. But it's fine! Leah's making it out to be a much bigger deal than it is and all I need is my personal hot water bottle and it'll be healed in no time." You lift the hem of your shirt to show him and Seth immediately starts fussing.

"Babe, this is a big bruise."

"It doesn't hurt that bad." Just at that moment Seth rests his hand on top and you can't stop the groan you let out. "...Only when I touch it."

"I want my mom to look at it."

"That's what I said!" Leah cried.

The two siblings started talking over one another about the best thing to do, whether they should go right now, whether you should even move or if it's best for you to go to bed. Their voices grew louder than just talking and you felt yourself shrinking back from them.

"I'm sorry."

Seth's mood immediately charges as he cups your face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, okay? I'm sorry I did this to you."

"I don't want you to be sorry."

"Why don't we just go upstairs and cuddle, yeah? More gently this time."

You nod in response.

"Mom can have a look later. Let's just do nothing."

"Do nothing together?"

"Of course."

[loviingpedri]

hidden commitment - pablo gavi

prompt: what would happen if your relationship was exposed?

warnings: cursing, grammar issues, stalking (paparazzi), mentions of insecurities, angst (happy ending, ofc!)

credits to owners for all images

you and gavi have been a secret for 6 months. it felt like peaceful without anyone getting into your personal business. every moment with him became more special.

“should we take a walk?” gavi finally had an off day. he wouldn’t want to spend it anywhere or with anyone except with you.

“of course. favorite place as usual?” replying with his smile, he kissed you on the lips and went off to get ready. matching hoodies and matching sunglasses never seemed to fail.

it was very therapeutic to take morning strolls. nobody can spot you in the dark, and it was rare that anyone was even awake. an opportunity to catch up in life should never be missed.

"you look good." gavi approached behind you, sneaking his arm around your waist.

"i was thinking the same thing about you. we do have quite the taste." taking a quick kiss to his lips, it was time for the adventure to begin.

walking out the door, the cold crisp breeze hit your face instantly. the air felt fresh and clean. holding hands with your beloved, the wind picked up, intensifying gavi's scent.

an intensifying, yet subtle mix of a sweet apple that gives relief after a sunny day. his eyes reflecting a sign of almonds and honey as they were filled with love for you. his eye color reminding you of deep, dark, yet candied honey. the inside of an almond representing his pale, creamy skin. you only noticed the special details of him that nobody else could.

talking about the most random things possibly. cracking random jokes that changed the topics within minutes. becoming nostalgic of old memories that summarized how the past few 6 months were able to happen.

toning out the sound of crickets and birds, excusing the rustling in the bushes as an animal. lost in your own laugher, neither you or gavi could hear the camera shutter. pictures being taken as you were wrapped in gavi's warm embrace, synching heart beats. images spreading online as quick as the way gavi spun you in the middle of the street. the night disappearing and fading away just as your smiles after discovering the pictures were all over social media.

gavi was inflamed. you were confused. you just wanted one peaceful night. maybe even even more. it wasn't ideal to go public so early. none of you had a full conversation on this. it would put too much stress. worse part was, nobody was mentally prepared for this.

the media went crazy when it was posted. articles after articles with the pictures were all over it. different angles, different interactions, it really exposed both of you.

"gavi, what do we do?" an overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety came upon you.

"i don't know, okay? this is just as fucking complicated as it is for me," he held his head with his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed. mumbling spanish curse words under his breath. "shitty paparazzi always has to do something."

you rose from the bed. "we need some space right now. contact your publicist, immediately." grabbing your phone and leaving the room, gavi needed time to process things correctly. he was better doing it in silence, as his anger would get the best of him.

opening the guest bedroom door, the emptiness instantly coming into contact with you. the only background noise is the air condition on the highest setting possible.

sitting in the empty room for a few minutes, your phone began to blow up with notifications. follow requests from instagram and tiktok were taking over your screen. how the fuck did they find you?

suddenly, texts from your best friends were pouring in. sending countless articles about your relationship. you took a deep breath. opening each article with your eyebrows becoming furrowed. lies, upon lies were written. the false information that was feeding the media made you rethink of your decisions of this relationship.

next were tiktok videos being sent. opening the comments, your insecurities consumed every inch of you.

'she bagged gavi? she's not pretty enough for that.'

'look at her in those clothes. gavi shouldn't be with someone that weighed that much.'

'did she get lip fillers? she needs a refund from whoever did them.'

'even if she was a gold digger, she should be buying better clothes than that.'

'there's no way she is a gold digger, that money could've been used to do plastic surgery.'

without realizing it, tears were flowing down your cheeks. you put your hand over your mouth to cover up your sobs. you were hurting inside, but you couldn't stop scrolling through the comments. soon, you heard gavi yelling in anger into his phone. your head was pounding. too many thoughts, emotions, and problems were piling.

your heart beat increasing rapidly. your vulnerabilities crashing like waves in your mind. the hurtful comments struck your skin as thunder. the saltiness of your tears streaming. your heavy breathing to stop your anxiety. you were crumbling into sand.

hearing the bedroom door open, you wiped your tears quickly. gavi walked through the door ready to speak, but stopped in his movements. he could see the redness in your eyes of sadness.

"have you been crying, my love?" he sat next to you on the mattress, slowly reaching his arms out. feeling his warm embrace, something wasn't right.

"we need to talk." both of you said at the same time.

"you should probably go first." you told him in a whisper.

"no, it's okay. you're going through a rough time."

"i know you just got off the phone with your publicist. what's the next step we should take?" he cleared his throat. he looked scared to speak. opening his mouth, a lump formed.

"it's better if we take a break."

silence.

he imagined you being hurt. your pupils told him otherwise. you were thinking the same thing.

"i understand. i think that's best for the both of us." he nodded as he stood up. indicating he was going to pack his stuff, he seemed more hurt than he did. him and his publicist discussed other options if the first one didn't work out. he imagined you fighting for your relationship, but you were seriously going to let it go like that. gathering his belongings, he realized that he didn't know how much to pack. his head was in denial of emotions. he packed up and left without any formal of goodbye.

——————————————

two days had passed after the unfortunate events. gavi had ensured he would have full security around the house to protect you. it was then you realized that it was sunday. meaning you had to go grocery shopping or else you would starve for the week.

changing into a little red top that revealed some skin, pairing with a leather jacket and leather pants. the realization hit you that you needed to cover your face. one person recognizing you could end in you becoming surrounded in a crowd full of questions. taking a red scarf given to you by gavi, you wrapped it around you, making sure to cover the lower part of your face.

meeting up with a security guard at the market, it was like a normal grocery shopping spree. until, you accidentally bumped into someone. this caused your face to be exposed.

"holy shit, you're y/n!" you gave the person a quick smile before rushing into another aisle. word must have gone around fast. you were circled with a crowd of people. some having cameras ready. the scarf was long gone from your face.

"y/n! is it true you're dating pablo gavi?" smiling was the only answer you could give them. smiling was another way of apologizing by running them over with the cart.

cameras continued to shutter and the flash nearly blinding you. "who is this man right here? is he your boyfriend? are you cheating on gavi?" you tried to hide your facial expression, but that was one of the dumbest questions you've ever heard.

apologizing to the cashier for the commotion, you grabbed your things and left. driving around multiple circles due to cars following you. you nearly fell to the floor after the experience.

"need some help with the bags?" you jumped in fear. getting a closer look to the couch, of course pablo gavi was sitting there.

"holy shit. you nearly gave me a heart attack." passing the bags towards him, he shared his gummy smile.

"you should really change the locks." putting the cereal away, you looked at him confused.

"how come?"

"it was that easy for me to enter."

"gavi, you had the key. we're on a break. besides, why are you here?" putting the last thing in the fridge, you poured yourself a glass of water. looking into his honey eyes as he sat down across the kitchen island.

"i wanted to apologize for putting you into this mess. i'm sure we can get through it though. it would be better to do it together, not really alone."

"are you asking to get back together?" you hid your smile behind your cup, taking another sip.

"yeah, i guess you could say that. we could go out for dinner tonight."

"can't believe the famous gavi is asking me out." he winked at you.

there was no more hiding. love was meant to be expressed. you couldn't escape the paparazzi, but it was no secret that you were happy. pictures of you holding hands at a restaurant really sealed that the world can mind their own business.

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

Golden Hour

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

Summary: Everything Luke did was out of love for you

Warnings: Ominous Foreshadowing, english is not my native language

Word Count: 979

The sun was slowly going down and the camp was buzzing with life. Around Luke, campers were rushing around, everyone was trying to finish their afternoon activities before it was time for dinner. But he only had eyes for you. You, who were sitting with a few other campers, a guitar in your lap and glowing like the sun. With your sun-kissed skin and your smile brighter than the star you all revolved around, nobody could doubt that you were Apollo's daughter. Of course, he couldn’t help to gravitate to you like the earth did to the sun. You were his sun.

For a short moment, doubt overwhelmed him. Finally, you seemed happy. But in a world like this, your happiness wouldn’t last unless he took care of it personally. Therefore, he had to do it. He had to do it for you. Because he remembered. He remembered the many months you were struggling in the Hermes Cabin, still unclaimed, asking yourself, far too often, why you weren’t worth it. Back then, seeing your self-doubt had destroyed a part of Luke. He always had known that you were worth more than the gods could ever give you. And, it seems, like he had to take matters in his own hands.

He could only hope that someday you would understand his motivations. However, even if you didn't, at least you would have a better life. And that was enough for him. You had already given him more than he ever hoped for since arriving at camp. He would always remember it, like he remembered your arrival.

You were lost, figuratively speaking. Three days ago, some guy, half boy, half goat had told you, your father was a god, and now you were hunted down by monsters. Of course, first, you didn’t believe him. But the evidence was speaking for itself, and after you barely escaped a monster attack with your life, you couldn't deny it anymore.

When you finally reached Camp Half-blood, a sanctuary for kids like you, you were so relived, that you didn’t die, that you felt like crying. So, this was what you did. You started to cry ugly, fat tears were streaming down your face while you gasped for air.

This was how Luke found you. And even with fourteen years, he found your beauty rivalling Aphrodite’s. Not that he would ever say that out loud, gods were merciless when it came to things like that.

He took you under his wings. In a world where you felt like an intruder, he gave you a home. It quickly became clear that you were not a child of Hermes. Living in the far too full cabin, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. They told you, all you had to do was find the thing you were good at, and your father would claim you. But days, then weeks, then month went by, and you stayed at the Hermes cabin. The only thing that kept you sane was your friendship with Luke.

But luck wasn’t on your side, and Luke had to go on a mission. Following the god’s wishes, he left you behind. Many nights, you cried yourself to sleep, feeling worthless. Until after 7 months, your father finally took pity on you.  

  

Luke barely managed to get back from his mission. The cut he received had become inflamed. He didn’t remember how he got back to camp, but when he opened his eyes, he thought he had died and ended in the Elysium.

Your face was hovering over him, and you were glowing. Gently, your fingers were working their way over his wound and Luke needed a moment to realize, that you were healing him.

“Welcome back, hero”, you whispered when you saw that he was finally awake. “I missed you.”

Probably not more than he missed you. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he chose another topic.

“Looks like he finally claimed you”, his words made a happy smile form on your lips. However, Luke wasn’t happy. He could only think about, how he would miss your presence in the Hermes Cabin and at the dinner table.

Back in the present, you finished the lesson. Giving the guitar to one of your siblings, you made your way to Luke. You were so much more than his best friend, but he had never talked about his feelings for fear of complicating things. However, everything would soon change, and he would have to leave.

“Walk with me?”, he asked and with hesitation you agreed.

Without thinking, his feet led him to the lake, where the sun kissed the water on the horizon.

“Something is bothering you”, you broke the silence, after a moment of just watching the sunset.

Taking a deep breath, Luke tried to calm his nerves. All these years he hadn’t mustered up the courage, but from today on this would all be in the past.

“Some things will change in the near future, but I want you to know, that my feelings about you will never change.”

“Your feelings about me?”, you echoed surprised, and instead of an answer, Luke did the one thing, which he had been waiting for since he was 14 years old. He kissed you. You did what he always dreamed of, you kissed him back.

“Everything I do, I will do for you. I would fight for you, I would lie for you, and I would die for you”, Luke whispered against your lips, after you interrupted the kiss to gasp for air.

“I love you too”, that was all he wanted to hear. Looking down at you, the last sunbeams of the day were illuminating your face, he couldn’t help but think, that you were his golden hour. But now the night was starting, and he could only hope, that tomorrow the sun would rise again.

[hitomisuzuya]

Imagine painter scara painting our stomach before fucking us hard !

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Edible arousal paints. Biting/Marking.

I looked this stuff up, edible arousal paints are a thing😳 Dear, this request😳❤️

You shivered a little bit. "Scara, that's cold," You stated meekly, watching him with flushed cheeks. His hand squeezed your wrists, which were trapped above your head.

Scaramouche rolled the handle of the paintbrush around in his mouth thoughtfully. As a painter, great care had been taken with the canvas he was working with. You. You were his favorite canvas to paint on. Decisions about where to stroke his brush had to be made very carefully.

You deserved nothing less than the most intimate consideration from him.

"You whining is breaking my concentration. Just relax, and let me work," He chided, dipping his brush into the paint. These paints were his personal favorite. Whenever the dark chocolate flavored paint (the only sweet he could remotely tolerate besides you, because it was a little bitter.) made contact with your skin, it warmed, heightening arousal and sensitivity.

Once he added his saliva to further enhance the paint, Scaramouche knew he would have you wet and begging for him in no time. You practically already were.

You felt the soft paint brush glide over your one of your nipples, followed shortly by the other. Your breath hitched in your throat, the paint warming your nipples a few seconds later.

Scaramouche leaned down, tricking you into thinking he was going to kiss you first before he swept his tongue over your nipple. He kitten licked, swirling his tongue around it. He sucked until it was sensitive and hard on his tongue.

He ignored the slightly sweet taste on his tongue, sucking a little harder when your shaky moans became consistent. "So sensitive already, I haven't even gotten started yet," He teased, moving his attention to your other nipple.

Pleasure started to hum strong on your body, his hand tightening on your wrists again as you squirmed a little. "Good subjects stay still," He taunted, scrapping his tongue on your nipple in a way that made your back arch off the bed.

He loved seeing you squirm, hearing your aroused whimpers. It was all for him.

You were panting when Scaramouche pulled away. He flicked your nipple, giving it an encouraging pinch before picking up his brush again. He painted a line from your chest and down your stomach, following it with his tongue.

He let go of your wrists to spread your legs. He gave your clit a teasing lick before dipping his brush in the paint again. He painted the shapes of cherry blossoms on your insides of your thighs.

You let out a loud moan when he painted your clit. He dabbed the brush on the swelling nub, adding another coat of paint. He spread the lips of your cunt, wanting to see you getting wetter while he worked.

Your clit throb, your legs starting to shake as he painted a line down your cunt, sweeping it back up around your clit. To further tease you, he let the paint set there, adding another coat to your nipples.

Scaramouche painted a different design on every sensitive part of your body with splashes of purple. His favorite color paled in comparison to your skin, you made it look beautiful, not the other way around.

It was time for him to appreciate every part he painted with his mouth. He licked his tongue over the shapes, sucking sensual bruises that would linger long after the paint was gone.

"Sing more for me, kitten," Scaramouche purred as moans spilled shamelessly from your mouth. Spreading your legs, he kissed and bite the painted cherry blossoms on your thighs, sending your clit to throb even more.

He nursed the inflamed skin with his tongue, wagging his finger over your clit to stimulate the arousing properties in the paint. Your cunt was starting to clench around nothing. Your body trembled with need for him, keening high pitched moans from your throat.

Scaramouche tapped his fingers on one of the blossoming bruises on your thigh before he scooped some of your wet onto his fingers. He pushed them into your mouth, letting you suck on them to placate you before he took off his clothes.

You rolled your up when he lined the head of his aching cock up with your entrance. He laughed at how cute and eager you looked for him. Leaning down to give you a deep, open mouthed kiss, he groaned as he slowly pushed his cock inside of you.

He bottomed out in one snap of his hips, biting your lower lip with a hiss of pleasure. Your walls clenched tight, so warm and perfect around his cock as he drove it into your sweet spot.

Pleasure burst white hot behind behind your eyes, stealing your breath away. You writhed underneath him, his mouth swallowing your moans. Your legs shook as you bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

He bent one of legs up towards your chest so he could fuck himself deeper into you. "I'll paint your cunt with cum next," He moaned, his cock throbbing to add the most important shade to his work of art.

Your nails racked up his back, the knot of your orgasm coiling tighter. His thrusts turned sloppy as he reached down to rub and pinch your clit, making you squirt on his cock suddenly. You could barely form coherent words, babbling for him to cum inside of you.

This thought passed through his head as his cum ribboned inside of you: You were always his most beautiful work of art.

[17caratssi]

My darling, honey pt 2 ; Jeon Wonwoo

part 1 is here!

You had been married to your teenage crush for three years and it was a wondrous journey added to the fact you just learned that you'd swallowed a watermelon seed.

Wonwoo was still working his ass off during the weekend and after he returned, you began preparing some light breakfast for him.

While he waited at the suffice dining table and stared at your back, he repeatedly expressed his regret as he was unable to spend the weekend together.

"It's fine. We have a lot of time together, don't dwell on it," you reassured albeit knowing he won't feel any better. Wonwoo became one with the silence and you were already used to it. He never spoke unless it was about you or something you asked for his opinion.

You finished with the cooking and he did the plating. Last night, he worked for only four hours but since he was called in the dawn, he felt sleepy quite a bit and you were the opposite.

As you both were eating, he looked at you oddly. You ceased to stop and raised an eyebrow, indicating your curiosity. "Are you done? Just leave the plate and go resume your sleep,"

Wonwoo shook his head and held your hand. Perhaps his palm was radiating so much warmth, you leaned forward in the coziness. "Hun, do you have something to tell me?" you asked.

Presented with ambivalence, Wonwoo took a minute to reply. He thought deeply before saying, "Don't you think I've been resting a lot these days?"

You could tell he was dourly asking. You have read it somewhere that if the husband loves his wife so dearly, he will experience early pregnancy fatigue rather than the wife. Thinking about how it related to his situation, you grinned.

Wonwoo smiled as if he was entranced by your reaction. He gave a gentle rub on your cheek and patted the back of your hand. He then told you to go upstairs and rest as he helped with the dishes.

You didn't refuse and went as he directed. There was nothing in your brain than the thought of how you should tell Wonwoo about your pregnancy.

While you pondered, he already completed the chore and got himself ready for the shower. Wonwoo looked bushed and you pitied him. After he came out from the wet, you beckoned him to the bed. Since he had changed his clothes inside, he didn't waste any time and ambled to you.

"I have something to tell you,"

Wonwoo hauled your whole body and answered. "Yes?" he was feeling cold and decreased the gap between your bodies. Seeing how comfy he appeared, on impulse, you straddled him and laid on top.

He took a different hint and whispered. "You want it?" Wonwoo asked with apparent lust. You let his hands explore your back but when he was getting dangerously near to your sensitive area, you grabbed his wrist and put a halt to it.

"We can't. Someone will see," you said. Attentively, Wonwoo kissed your neck and mumbled. "The outside? I'll draw the curtain," he sounded titillated and you honestly underestimated your own self-control. It was such a turn-on to see him inflamed but your conscience rushed in.

"No. Not outside but here," you brought his hand to your belly and reposed. Wonwoo didn't quite catch the periphrastic way you were telling but once he realized, the sparkling bright eyes shone even more brilliantly.

"Is it what I think it is?" he asked softly, almost audible. His palm smoothed around your belly and he looked at it. Wonwoo didn't need to ask twice as you clarified his question in a single nod.

You and Wonwoo had waited for 3 years and were confronted with many thrown doubts regarding your fertility. It wasn't something anyone can forget and take it lightly and so you began seeing specialists every few months to check on your body.

At first, Wonwoo did argue with you about it and at one point, you gave him a cold shoulder for a week. He wasn't easy to be persuaded but one day, he followed you for your regular check-up. On the way back, you requested to ride the bus instead. You two came by taxi and Wonwoo has no problem granting your wish.

After you picked your seat, Wonwoo got to his and sat quietly. You were having mixed feelings about today and leaned against your husband. "Are you alright?"

Wonwoo's response was fast but did not answer the question. He kissed your temple and said. "Let me know if you're going to your appointment next time. We'll go together," his mellow voice sang sorrow. You looked up to see his face and there hidden a hint of sadness in his beautiful eyes.

The journey home was blue that day, he knew his love for you was deep but not as much as the worries within.

Wonwoo was used to your prank and all but this news would never be one of them. After many attempts and tears, you two were gifted with a sunny revelation. He let out a light-hearted laugh and announced. "You're pregnant,"

"Y/N, you're pregnant!"

Wonwoo continued to have couvade episodes until the second trimester came by. Your belly swelled later than most women you knew. They told you it was normal for your bump to be small and even your husband assured you there was nothing to fret about.

Once it got bigger, you felt shy to stand bare naked in front of Wonwoo. You even made a fuss when he wanted to shower with you. "No, it's ugly. You will hate it,"

You only earned his grimace and a company for the bath. Wonwoo hissed as he smeared the shower gel over your body. His dissatisfaction was then voiced out, "How can you say this hideous? I'm the hideous one,"

You glared at him and covered his mouth. "Don't say that. It'll make it sound like I don't have a taste for marrying an ugly man," and that had Wonwoo cracked, you followed suit.

Out of blue, you felt something poking behind you. You flicked his head and pinched his waist. Flustered, you sheepishly exposed him. "Why are you getting hard?"

"Ignore that. You're just too sexy and I'm a pervert,"

"Yeah, a pervert," you chuckled with your hands fondling him already.

You and Wonwoo didn't have extensive exercise the whole pregnancy, fear if you'll get hurt. However, one night, you woke him up wanting to do it. He did it so gently that you squirmed around and begged him.

"Go harder.."

"No, honey. You're near due,"

Wonwoo had a hard time practicing abstinence in your later weeks. He hadn't done it for almost a month and he thank God for not testing him too much. Seeing how seductive you acted that night, he went out of his principle and pleased you.

He was feeling bliss all over but you were his priority. He felt the familiar sensation inside you and he smiled. "Come for me," he knew it won't take him long to bring you an orgasm. He kissed your neck and thrust a few times more before he had you ended.

Panting, you loosened your arms around his torso and asked. "Did you come? Don't lie to me,"

Wonwoo was about to tell a lie when you added. He didn't dare to ejaculate inside after he learned that semen can cause contractions. He then flashed an apologetic smile at you. "I can use my hand,"

Wonwoo never used his hands and you've long known. That hurt your heart even more. You pushed him off and got up to wash.

Whether you were pregnant or not, Wonwoo wasn't close to tranquil if you were in the bathroom for a long period. He knocked on the door for the third time and asked if you needed any help but you chose to not answer.

After a while, you finished and silently left the bathroom. The sky was still dark and your husband wasn't in the bed. "Wonwoo?" you called him, slow-voiced.

Where did he go? Is he mad when I threw tantrum just now? You felt conflicted. He rarely let you sleep alone when he's home and now he did. Rather than furious, you wanted to see him.

But even after the nth time of calling him from the room, he still didn't reply. The after-sex effect kicked in and you began to yawn. No sign of Wonwoo getting into bed and you retired soon.

As soon as you hit the pillow, you couldn't open your eyes anymore. Having no desire to resist the sleepiness, you fell asleep and Wonwoo returned home to a sleeping wife.

He put the bag of condoms in the cabinet and properly snuggled against you on the bed. He had taken a shower downstairs before going out but he was afraid you'd wake up to his smell. It happened before and you had him slept on the floor the entire week.

Wonwoo stared at you as you fell deeper into slumber and fixed your position. Your round belly looked adorable and he recalled the moments when you cried because your swollen feet hurt.

He had hurried home that evening and massaged your legs with his uniform on. "Hubby," you sniffed, wanting his attention.

"Yes?"

Your face poker and you stayed silent for a good five minutes until you broke out of character. "I love you," you confessed out of nowhere.

With your nose running with a snort, Wonwoo laughed and hugged you. "Honey, if you keep being like this, I don't know how to survive,"

Wonwoo had lost count of how many times had he rushed home because you called him crying. He was always worried even though he may have an idea of what was happening.

Little things that you do to gain his attention basked him in elation. His love for you has grown impassioned and somehow anticipates the baby to come into this world of his and yours.

Before it reached dawn, Wonwoo was first to feel the wet bed and woke up. In a daze, he didn't quickly stir you but rather checked the ceiling.

However, it was your moaning had his head turned to you, full attention. "The baby- I think the baby's coming," you winced as you spoke. He can tell from your labored breathing that it must hurt.

Fortunately, you had been reminding him to get the maternity bag ready in his car. You were around his arms as he carried your weight to the car and placed you gently in the backseat.

As he drove to the emergency department, you told him you can bear the pain but he wasn't buying. Wonwoo got out and called for a team to attend to you. They instantly brought all the necessary equipment to the vehicle and performed the procedure.

Wonwoo was guided to the registration counter and while you were pushed into the waiting hall, the only thing that kept you conscious at the moment was his arrival.

You wanted him to be by your side so badly and if you suddenly had an emergency labor without him, you honestly would cry.

Perhaps, the baby wished to see his parents immediately, you were out into labor just several hours after that, and Wonwoo was permitted into the room.

The entire process was both scary and exciting for you. On one hand, you fret if you are drained out of energy while pushing the baby out but on the other, your husband was very collected about the whole situation.

"Honey, we can see the head already. Just a little push and we're going to meet our child,"

"I know you can. Grip my hand tighter as you push,"

You didn't know what was along his sentence that moved you but tears ran down your face and you made your last exertion in his presence.

The loud wailing was an end to your suffering. Wonwoo stayed with you and only when the midwives called to cut the umbilical cord he came about.

Days after you had the little one downright changed but Wonwoo never stopped giving his unreserved attention to both of you. He would promptly take care of the child in the middle of the night since you'd had it in the morning when he was out to work.

It was a challenging period as it was Wonwoo's first experience as a father. He took a lot of advice from his parents and other people and in the blink of an eye, the child is now two years old.

At first, many said that the baby took your features but he seemed to be the carbon copy of his father. His first word was 'mummy' but all he called now was 'daddy'.

"Daddy, pick me,"

"Daddy, toys,"

Daddy here, daddy there. You couldn't help but feel bitter inside. You and Wonwoo did spend equal time with your son but his blatant preference made you green. But maybe part of him inherited from how clingy you were to your husband. “He’s just like you, Y/N,”

He gifted a peck on your jaw and smiled softly. Suddenly, a voice from the little one chimed in. “Mummy, no!” and cause a rupture of laughter from the adults. You teased him by giving his favorite person more kisses. “Daddy’s mine,”

Wonwoo will never have this memory faded. He’s glad that you confessed to him that day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

[rotten-dogs]

Hii can I also req a bully bada smut??😫 🙏 I love ur works!!

From Time

cw: general bullying, characters in the grey area, dubious consent wise (power difference) girl cock, umm squirting

an: sure thx 4 the rq this is short and sweet hopefully

The loud sound of lockers slamming pressed mind numbingly against your ears. The chatter from other students became muddled against every other noise in the vicinity. The sound of someone’s shoes squeaking, a backpack unzipping, a teacher yelling to tell off a student running down the hall.

Everything combined made an already hostile day ten times worse. You could feel your brain slowly draining itself of personality, of you. Water dripped from your hair and stained the sleeves of your clothes but nobody noticed. Nobody ever had. The skin around your wrists was inflamed and the length of your skirt covered the mass-ly blue bruises that seemed to be permanently etched into your skin. Everything was blurry, and only one thing remained on your mind in a constant.

Bada Lee.

Ever since grade school she had made it her personal mission to plaster her personal vendetta against you across her whole being. It started out petty, a few sarcastic comments that only the petulant mind of an eight year old could come up with. Stealing your things, holding them above your head.

By middle school it had shifted, but only slightly. A few shoulder checks in the hallway, a little academic intimidation, rumors. Oh the rumors.

By high school it had gotten more physical. It seemed her hate for you only grew, shoving you into lockers, punching your stomach until you were gasping for air behind the school and like today—holding you down while she poured water over your face on a constant. You didn’t know why she did it, you steered clear of her and yet it’s like that wasn’t enough. Like you had burrowed a section out in her brain and now she blames you specifically for that. It’s your fault that she can’t stop thinking about hurting you.

The reality is she made your life a living hell and sometimes you wondered if that’s all it would be. You’d never even been friends with the girl and yet she destroyed your concept of friendships. Anyone you’d gotten close to she easily consumed from you as well. It was easy for her, she was charming and stunning to everyone else. A guiding light. A campus crush that you touch yourself after hours to. Not that you would.

You pull your arms around yourself, attempting to fall inside yourself and avoid the curious eyes drifting your way as you make your way to class. It hardly works, it’s all you can think about as you push your way through what feels like an endless sea of people.

So suddenly you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. That hand tugs, hard on your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled through the stuffy hall; your guiding light expertly weaving through the bustle of your peers.

You don’t have to look up, you know that grip. Felt it many times. Your heart dies a little in your chest at the thought. Just this morning, Bada had grabbed you by the back of your head and told you to sit; wait.

You did, obediently, shaking in fearful anticipation as she came up behind you. You could feel her presence—looming over you before an intense feeling of cold and wet washed over you. You could’ve sworn you felt your body go into shock.

The sound of Bada laughing cruelly behind you filled your ears and you slipped trying to stand up, your body suddenly shaking violently as the cold morning air hit your wet frame. All Bada offered you was, “You looked hot.” Before she turned on her heel and walked the other way.

You thought that would’ve been the end of it today and you were clearly a fool. She tugged you to the far end of the school, the crowd having dissipated into a few stragglers until there was no one around at all.

“Bada.”

You tried, wincing as the grip only tightened on your arm. She pulled you into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind her. The action made her grip on your wrist loosen and you pulled it away into your own chest, rubbing the skin there with your other hand.

“Bada..” You’re searching for words but nothing seems to stick and she’s looking at you with nothing short of hatred in her eyes. It makes you feel small. She takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Did you think I was done?” She raises her eyebrow, expectant of an answer and you turn your head, finding the floor beside you to be all the more interesting. A mistake. Her hand finds itself under your chin easily, pushing it up to look at her. “You know it’s disrespectful to turn away from someone.” Her eyes trail away and the quiet anger is written all over her face. You’ve been here before. You know everything about Bada, and she knows everything about you.

“Sit on that desk.” She juts her chin towards it, letting go of yours and you start to shake your head. “Not h-“ the loud sound of a slap reverberates off the walls and you blink in registry. Red is creeping onto your face from where the sting of her slap imprinted itself on you. You lack shock at her doing it, but rather at how quickly it had happened. “I’m not asking again.” And damn, if that isn’t a threat.

You nod, more to yourself than to her and make your way towards the desk she had pointed out to you, letting your thighs touch the base of it before lifting yourself to sit atop it, feet dangling.

She smiles, a rare occurrence, as she walks towards you. “See? Was that so hard, hm?” She pushes your hair back from your shoulders and slides her hand down suggestively from your neck down to the first button on your blouse. Her fingers are tender, such a contrast to her personality as she unbuttons your top, pulls it down your shoulders. Her grin is toothy, big lips pulled open predatorily as she leans in, leaves a kiss against your shoulder once, before bringing a trail up your neck and to the base of your ear.

You inhale deeply at her actions, eyes closing as you feel a familiar throb make itself known between your legs. Legs that she seems to take an interest in suddenly. Her hands rub over your thighs, rubbing her thumbs into your taut skin there which garners a groan from you. She seems to like that, chuckling breathily to herself before spreading your legs further apart. Embarrassment seeps in and you glance at the door. Locked or not, anyone could walk by.

You feel her breath fan against your neck before she puts her lips to your ear, “You gonna just take it today?” She bites her lip, a hand snaking down your front and ghosting over your core. “Or have I not stretched you enough these days?” And despite the inaccuracy she’s suggesting about the female anatomy; you meet her eyes, they’re gleaming with something only she understands. A look only she knows, something glassy and wide eyed. Beggar.

“Oh…” She smiles, biting back a laugh as she takes it in, “Filthy.” Is what she offers as you two come to some sort of silent understanding.

Then she’s pulling your skirt up, looping her fingers down your panties and pulling them down; but not all the way. No, she wouldn’t bother with that. It all happens so quickly, barely any time passes before she’s pulling herself out of her trousers, precum dripping from her tip.

Her teeth bite at the inside of her cheek as she lines herself up. If she were decent she might ask if you were ready, give you some kind of warning. But she isn’t, so she doesn’t. Just pushes the tip inside, her eyes locking with yours as she does. She watches as your mouth falls open, holding the eye contact as your face quivers with the pain.

She keeps pushing in, forcing her way inside your walls as they try to keep up, relaxing despite the pain. It feels like you’re being torn open, her size massive to the unprepared state you’re in. She’s still holding your gaze as your eyes tear up, a broken moan slipping from your lips. “Bada.” You whine and she smiles, “Shhh.” Is what she offers.

Your arms fly up to wrap around her shoulders as she bottoms out, your eyes forcing themselves closed and a shudder wracking through your body while you try to adjust. She’s no help though, wasting no time before she pulls out to the hilt and slams herself inside again. Which in turn, causes you to scream out, legs flailing on either side of her with the force of it. You bite around her shoulder, trying to quiet yourself as your field of vision becomes slick with tears.

Bada sets out on a pace, finding it quickly. And it’s not kind, her hips fucking against you at a dangerous pace. You stretch around her with each thrust, your body bouncing against the table while you try to hold onto her shoulders for dear life. “Look at you taking it. Speechless?” She mocks, her words breathy as you clench around her and whine in response.

“Can always count on you. My little slut.” Her hands slide down to hold your waist and you cry out, a tear sliding down your face as she pushes you away from her shoulders, sends you back to lay against the desk.

She lifts your hips off the desk, angling her hips upwards before fucking inside of you with a new fervor, fucking into you like you’re a fleshlight. “My little toy. Look at you. Can barely handle it yet you’re moaning for more.” And she’s right, your hands are clenched into fists while your mouth hangs agape, moaning loudly, any thoughts of anyone walking having become uncared for by you. Bada’s name falls from your lips endlessly and your body goes stiff.

“Please.” Is what you offer, “Please please please.” Your back arches even further off the desk and she pulls you further onto her, the sound of your skin against each other filling the space. You can’t help but groan, tears sliding down your face as she speeds up. “There you go baby, that’s it.”

“Taking it so well I knew you could.”

You whine at the praise and shake your head, “I can’t…I can’t..” you can barely think, your hand coming up to try and push Bada’s hands off your hips and that well, she doesn’t like that at all.

Suddenly, her hand is around your throat and her face comes back into your field of view as she fucks inside of you at a new pace. “You can.” She says and you shake your head again, sniffling in between your stolen moans, “You can.” She says again, her voice raspy and darker than it was moments before, her hips snapping up against you.

You can barely breathe, your hand coming up to hold where she has your neck in her grip, “Wait..” you whine out but she doesn’t, barely even slows down before you’re coming all over her cock, a scream falling from your lips. Your hips shake and splutter around her and your head falls back as far as it can, your whole vision goes dark for a moment and you register her letting you go when your back hits the desk again.

It’s quiet, and you can feel her shallowly fucking inside you still, her eyes staring directly down at where you’re swallowing her up. You’re dazed, and a little confused as you try to blink up at her. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and you’re unable to speak so she does it for you. That grin still plays on her lips when she meets your gaze again,

“You fucking squirted.”

[makeyoumine69]

Blood Sweat & Tears

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: It doesn't matter how far this man can go. You are ready to surrender to his possession because you are his obedient little girl.

— WARNINGS: Period sex, hurt/comfort, blood kink, oral (f), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, possessive behavior, body worship, hand jobs, marking, teasing, dirty talk, Praise kink, Mild Degradation kink, pet names, dumbification.

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it! Many thanks for an amazing GIF by @nikolatexla!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [support]

It was a busy day at the Bellagio, the most famous and well regarded casino in Las Vegas. Shamelessly, rich people gambled here and there, not caring how much money they would win or lose. The chin-chin of the glasses mingled with the flirtatious laughter of beautiful girls whose short dresses were too seductive and all the guys around couldn't hide their hungry eyes.

Patrick Bateman loved to play roulette, it was his favourite gambling game. With a smug look on his face, he sat near the table, smoking an expensive cigar and holding you possessively by your waist as you rested on his lap.

With a haughty grin, Patrick took a chip and brought it to your lips. "Come on, darling. Blow on it."

"Do you think it will bring you luck?" You asked, a little skeptical, but did what he wanted nonetheless.

"I always feel so lucky when you're around." He winked at you, giving your bum a light pinch that made you giggle in embarrassment. "Let's see what we got."

Although you didn't know the exact denomination of the chips, you were sure that it wasn't cheap, so you  got nervous when the roulette began to spin. Your eyes followed the small ball as it spun around in circles, and when the ball stopped in the red 7 slot, you heard Bateman's happy voice:

"YES, BABY!" He smooched your cheek before clapping his hands and urging you on: "Always bet on red, honey. Always."

"Wow," you smiled at him and took a sip of champagne, when suddenly you felt his big palm cupping your butt. "Hey, gentleman. Watch your hands!"

"Or what?" Patrick chuckled, pulling you closer as he puffed on his cigar. "I'm on a roll today, sweetheart. You know what that means?"

For a moment, you just stared into his hazel, magnetic eyes, and when he noticed your intense gaze, Bateman beckoned you closer so he could blow rings of smoke right against your half-open lips. 

"God, you're so beautiful," Patrick murmured, stroking your chin and tilting your head to the side to admire the view. "My lucky charm."

Oh, Bateman could be such a sweet talker sometimes.

Rolling your eyes, you let him cover your lips with his plush ones, but when his wet tongue began to explore your mouth, you heard someone's irritated voice:

"Hey, young people, this is a casino, not a brothel, maybe you need help getting yourselves a room?"

You and Patrick immediately turned in the direction of the owner of the voice to see an old man smoking a cigar of the same brand as Bateman's. When he noticed this he became even angrier.

With an arrogant grin, Patrick puffed on his cigar and growled through clenched teeth: "Maybe you need help keeping your mouth shut?"

"Patrick!" You tried to calm him down, but he just shook his finger at you before turning back to the stranger.

"I'm enjoying my girl, and you don't have one, maybe that's your fucking problem?" 

"Take it easy, gentlemen." One of the securities warned as he came across your table. "Otherwise I'll have to escort you out."

"You should throw these two idiots out for indecent behaviour!" The old man continued to inflame the conflict, causing Bateman to clench his fists and making you fear that he would crush the man's skull. 

"Patrick, don't!" You lean on his broad shoulders, fumbling with the soft fabric of his pinstriped jacket. "We're leaving soon anyway!"

"You're just an old faggot whose destiny is to jerk off for the rest of your miserable life!" Bateman spat in the old man's face.

The growing tension between them was starting to really concern you, so you pressed a hand to your temple nervously, feeling the vein pulsate under your touch.

"Enough, please!" You didn't give up trying to cool this argument down, but the situation seemed to finally get out of control when the man got up from his seat and rushed towards you. "Patrick, NO!"

Shocked, you saw your beloved  standing in front of you, instinctively trying to cover you as your safety was his number one priority. In the next second, a tall security guard came between Patrick and the old man, shouting:

"HEY! CALM DOWN!"

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" The stranger yelped and tried to hit Bateman, and that was his biggest mistake, because the next moment Patrick's firm fist slammed into his confused face like in a slow motion film.

Frightened, you hysterically put a hand over your mouth, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your heart pounding painfully against your chest. "Stop! Please!" You repeated over and over, ignoring the sharp pain that coursed through your lower body. Anything you said was useless at this point, so you just gasped and blurted out: "I'm leaving!"

Biting your lower lip nervously, you spun around and made your way through the countless tables towards the exit, trying to ignore the curious eyes that only left you when you finally made it to the hallway.

Only then did you hear Bateman's worried voice as he rushed down the stairs after you:

"(Y/N), baby! WAIT!"

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you kept moving, stifling a sharp gasp. It was only a matter of seconds before he caught you in his strong arms, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn't. So you stopped and looked at him as he gently cupped your face.

"Darling, I'm sorry it turned out like this! But that bastard, he—"

"You could just have ignored him!" You interrupted and tried to move away, but his firm grip didn't allow it.

"He dared to say something when I was just enjoying the night with my lovely girl, how could I just ignore him?" Patrick tried to peck you on the nose, but you turned away. "Oh, come on, don't be like that! What can I do to make up for this little accident?"

"Just take me to the hotel, please," you breathed out and he finally let go of you. "I don't feel well, Patrick."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious." You pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling the unpleasant tingling again. "Just a little headache from the stress, you know?"

Bateman sighed deeply, feeling a little sad. It was probably the first time in his life that he actually felt guilty.

Later, you found yourself crying on the large balcony of your shared hotel room, and even the amazing view of Vegas at night didn't help.

Just as you were about to return to the living room, you heard the door slide open and saw Patrick's slightly grumpy face. 

"I've been waiting for you for almost 20 minutes, are you OK?" His sudden question took you by surprise.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine! I was just... I was just admiring the view."

"Aha, and the view is so fascinating that it made you cry?" Bateman stepped closer to you without breaking eye contact. "Don't try to fool me, darling. What happened?"

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, but when his warm, large palm touched your cheek to wipe away your shimmering tears, you nuzzled into it, because it was exactly what you needed right now.

"Patrick, you scared me, I was so nervous that..." You hiccupped and swallowed your tears.

"That I was going to kill that guy?" He chuckled a bit strangely.

"WHAT?!" You gave him a confused look. "No! I was afraid he would hurt—"

"You?" He interrupted, caressing the back of your neck to calm down your nerves. "Darling, no one will ever touch you with a finger. I've told you so many times and—"

"Stop! It's not about me! It's about you!"

Patrick narrowed his eyes and frowned a little in confusion. "What do you mean? My behaviour scared you?"

"I was afraid for you, Patrick!" You blurted out, salty tears running down your cheeks again.

A shadow of disbelief crept across his perfect face. "You were afraid for me?" He repeated, chuckling. "'Sweetheart, you—"

"No! Don't say anything!"

"Shhh." Patrick murmured in your ear, stroking your shoulders gently. "It's OK, love. It's okay." His reassuring tone and warm embrace comforted you, but you secretly wished for more. 

"Patrick…" You gasped as he suddenly attacked your neck as if he could read your mind. "Just... don't do that again."

Bateman only whispered some romantic nonsense, his strong hands were already groping your bum, and you instinctively arched your back towards him for closer contact. Possessively, he left a noticeable red mark on your cleavage, and when he heard your obscene moan, Patrick couldn't help but grin and mutter under his breath:

"Mmhm… what a naughty little kitten." A long lick across your cheek and then a sensitive bite on your throat made you squirm, but he held you tight. "I want to fuck you right here."

"Pat!" A muffled whimper escaped your shaky throat as he pressed you against the balcony railing and spread your legs with his knee. "Wait!" 

Only after kissing you hard on the lips did he stopped and allowed you to speak.

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked, giving you his most seductive glance.

"We can't do this," you were a little afraid of his reaction, but you decided to be honest with him, just like he asked you to the other day. "I'm... I'm on my period right now."

You lowered your eyes as you said this, but he immediately lifted your face by the chin and made you look at him. "Baby, I'm absolutely fine with that."

"But..." You tried to protest, feeling a stabbing pain in your lower body. "I don't know if I'm okay with this...

Patrick snickered and traced a finger along your slightly wet cheekbone. "I can ease your pain," he pecked at your temple, then moved down to the sensitive area around your ear and mused. "If you let me. Will you let me take care of you?"

Trembling, you clung to the railing behind you to cope with the rapidity of your heartbeat. "Right here? Are y-you sure? What if someone sees us?"

Amused by your innocence, Bateman shook his head quickly and looked at you from hair to toe. "Then they are lucky to see such beauty like you. Now open your legs for me, sweetheart."

Damn, the power this man had over you was overwhelming. 

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against the railing and did as he asked, pulling up your black skimpy dress. 

"Fuck, I love it when you're so obedient," Patrick licked his lips briefly as he looked shamelessly at your mound. "I love everything about you, actually."

What a devil. So smug, but insanely hot.

With a sly grin, Bateman knelt beside you, and the next moment you had to stifle a nervous sigh as you felt his plush, warm lips on your leg. Inch by inch he worked his way up to your thigh, looking at you from below, his brown eyes glowing brighter than the Sun itself. Gulping, you tried your best to relax, but when he was about to push your panties aside, you stopped him with a nervous sigh.

"Sorry, I can't!" 

"(Y/N), dear," You could feel how needy he was when he cupped your thigh, nuzzling against it and planting little kisses. "Just let it go. I got you."

Although he allowed you to close your legs, his large palm was still between them, ready to slip under your underwear at any moment.

"Don't you trust me?" His sudden question made you lose orientation in space.

"Yes! Of course I do!" You said without hesitation, running your fingers through his coiffed hair, making it slightly dishevelled. "I just don't feel comfortable with it…" 

You expected him to be angry at your refusal, but instead he just planted a sloppy kiss on your pubic bone. Then he grinned at how cute you sounded when he did things like that.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" His slightly pushy tone sent shivers down your spine.

Humming to yourself, you paused for a moment to consider his words, doubting that he would back down from his urge to fuck you. It seemed like not even your periods could stop him.

"Can we do it in the shower…?" You asked and saw his smile widen. "But first, I need some time to myself."

"You can have all the time in the world, darling." Patrick pinched your ass before adding: "But only until I get bored."

You didn't say anything back because you knew it was rather unreal to outsmart him in his own game. Carefully, he stood up and watched you go out from the balcony, and the look he gave you when you decided to turn around was so fucking savage.

In the shower, you closed your eyes from the soothing sensation of the warm streams of water outlining the curves of your beautiful body. Damn, it was so relaxing that you didn't even notice Bateman standing in the doorway, admiring the view and undressing lazily, unable to avert his hungry gaze.

"Mmm, what a view." He sneered in a raspy voice, and you immediately turned around to see him completely naked.

Swallowing hard, you watched his cock bob every time he moved, it was huge and veined, it sent shivers down your spine, it made your inner walls clench around nothing. You found yourself trapped in a cage with a wild beast when he joined you, because now you couldn't run away.

Patrick closed the distance between you a little too quickly, causing a loud wail to escape your mouth. He kissed you roughly, consuming all the little pathetic sounds you made, especially when his sneaky hand slid down your belly to your juicy pussy.

"Mmhm!" You murmured in the kiss as his tongue playfully teased yours, his strong arms were wrapped around you like tight ropes.

"Baby," He exhaled through his inflamed nostrils from how fucking hard he was. "You smell so good."

"I love you." It was all you managed to say, and these three words were enough to make him growl in ecstasy.

And then you had no choice but to claw at your own palm as the sensation of his strong tongue drawing invisible ornaments along your abdomen was too much to bear. Bateman knew it before you even tried to pull away, so he gripped your ass as tightly as he could, forcing you to open up for him. The moment his mouth locked onto your swollen clit, you seemed to stop breathing and lose your ability to speak. Patrick made a guttural sound from the taste of your flavour mixed with your blood, so he continued to suck on your sensitive bud with his eyes closed. 

"Ahhmm, Patty!" You were now literally sprawled against the wall of the shower, your hands desperately sliding along it in search of support.

"Mmmm, I can eat that pussy forever." He said briefly before draping your leg over his broad shoulder for better access to your soaped slit.

For a brief moment Patrick looked longingly into your eyes and stroked your inner thigh before he suddenly thrust his pulsating tongue into your hot, feverish cleft, and that sensation was wholesomely mind-blowing.

"OH MY GOSH! OHH MY G-GOSH!" Your loud scream surely could be heard from outside the hotel room, but you didn't care. "Pat-Patrick!"

The running water drowned out the dirty slurping sounds Bateman was making as he devoured your sweet little pussy, along with his wild growls, which you could barely hear, but they sounded so fucking animalistic. At one point, you found yourself balancing on the edge as his tongue played with your throbbing tip, and it felt almost electric. You grabbed his head and brought it even closer to your pulsating pussy, moaning lewdly.

"Mhmm— yeah, give me more…" He grunted before cooing at you. "Such a needy girl... your voice is so sweet, just like your tight little hole."

You were about to pass out from the sheer overstimulation when he began to lick your cunt more and more fiercely with each second, pumping his thick cock all the while. And not to mention the mind-numbing view when you dared to look down to see his handsome lower face smeared in a little bit of your blood.

"Please, t-this is too much!" You almost screamed, feeling your legs getting weak. "Mmmm— my GOD, I'mma cum, I'mma cummm!"

Patrick chuckled softly before letting the surging lust overtake his mind, and before he even realized, his thin fingers were already inside your clenching pussy, bringing you to one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had, all that while he continued to swirl his tongue around your clit.

"Ahhhh! Patrick— mmhm!" You clung to his shoulder and nearly broke in half from the violent tremors on your body.

"Just like that, darling. Keep showing me how good I make you feel." Bateman mumbled, licking your blood from his lips as his fingers kept stimulating you to prolong your climax. "Good girl!"

Dazed, you almost slipped down the wall, but he caught you and pulled you into a passionate kiss. The metallic taste on your lips made you moan into his mouth, and he used that moment to grab your hand and wrap it around his cock, forcing you to stroke it at a steady pace.

"Feeling better, babe?" He towered over you, his hands resting on the wall on either sides of you.

"Yes..." You closed your eyes because you couldn't bear the way he looked at you; his devilish and slightly mocking grin humiliated you. "Thank you, Patrick."

"Fucking hell. You're so sweet and innocent." Bateman couldn't hold back a laugh, but then he moaned, his dick throbbing in your grasp. "C'mere, honey."

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, just lifted you up with ease and opened the shower door. Everything that happened next was so intense that it reminded you of some of your wild dreams that you always kept as a secret from Patrick, but after the events of that night, you would probably tell him about them.

Breathing heavily, you lay on the pile of white towels that Patrick had dropped on the floor to make you more comfortable, as he was going to fuck all the pain out of you. With no hurry, Bateman kneeled down in front of your open legs, then placed them on his shoulders and kissed your ankles.

"I hope you remember that I love you too." He sneered suddenly as he pushed himself inside you. "My little girl... mmm-mine, only mine!"

A slow thrust, then another, but deeper. 

"P-Patrick!" You sobbed as he pulled you up a bit to pound you harder, rolling his toned hips against yours, and it felt so fucking good. "Kiss me! Aww... please, please, p-please!"

Patrick could swear he was about to lose it right now, but he gathered all his will into a fist and tried his best not to cum just from seeing you so vulnerable and ruined beneath him. Damn, you were whimpering so loudly and so pathetically from the way his beefy cock was brushing against your soft inner walls, that he had to hang over you and shush you with his mouth.

"Argh... is this too much for you already?" Bateman looked down at where your bodies were connected — the blood on his cock was driving him crazy, but he couldn't stop mocking you. "Do you want me to stop?"

Fucking bastard!

"N-no! Don't... awwww!" You stammered when he nibbled at your neck, thrusting hard and deep into your dripping womb. "Don't stop!"

"Holy fuck, you're nasty!" He murmured into your ear before tonguing it. 

As soon as Patrick hugged your shoulders and put a hand under your head, you hid your face in the nape of his neck and shrieked as his pounding became faster and sloppier. Your sweaty bodies slapped against each other, filling the bathroom with vicious sounds, and there was nothing left for you to do but wrap your legs around his loin, drowning in an ocean of pleasure every time the tip of his dick hit your cervix.

"A-awwww! Pat...mmm-Patrick!" You whimpered against his bloody lips as he lowered himself to kiss you.

Bateman growled into your mouth when you cupped his toned ass, encouraging him to go deeper, so he settled on his knees to fuck you hard into the floor with his full weight.

"Mmmhm… your pussy is clinging to my dick so greedily! F-fuck!" His hoarse voice only added fuel to the fire, you could feel the pulsing tension in your lower abdomen again.

"Pat..." You stammered as your legs started to shake. "Patrick-mmhm ahhh!"

"What?"

"C-cum… cum inside me..."

Patrick laughed before he gave you several  deep strokes, pressing you closer to his body and enjoying the way you moaned under his massive muscles. "Ask me nicely, baby." 

"P-please!" 

"What are you mumbling?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, while his other hand was buried in your hair.

"I want your c-cream, ahhh… PLEASE! Fill me up until I… I'm so full! I BEG YOU!" You were on the verge of tears, your trembling little form was ready to explode in the next vivid orgasm.

Grinning, Patrick clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Jeez, you're such a slutty girl, begging me to fill your tight hole with my cum... mmhm... today's your lucky day..."

With a low growl, Bateman suddenly pulled out of you and turned you on your side, bending your legs and pressing them together. Feeling dizzy, you didn't even want to look at him, knowing you couldn't bear how fucking savage he looked now, the sight of his huge dick covered in your blood awakening something absolutely primal in him.

"Don't you dare beg for mercy, bitch." He blurted out through his gritted teeth as he thrust into your abused cunt once more.

You had to cover your mouth with one hand as his muscular hips slammed into your fragile frame. Moaning, Patrick pinned you in place, gripping your ass and thigh, and doing his best to make the tension on your cervix unbearable. You bit your finger as you arched your back, convulsing from the multiple waves of pleasure that seemed to pierce through each pitch of your body. Patrick didn't stop drilling into your feverish slit, enjoying how dumb you looked with your eyes rolled back in your head.

"Look at you!" He snarled as his dick throbbed from the overwhelming sensation of your clenching pussy. "S-so fucking overwhelmed, mmhhm!" Bateman paused again, throwing his head back and growling loudly as he finally allowed himself to peak. "Arghhh, FUCK!"

Bateman was absolutely brutal with the way he dug his fingers into your soft skin. Later there would be bruises for sure, but at that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care as the feeling of his warm seed spilling into you became the final drop for your mind to collapse. 

By the time Patrick stopped moving, you were completely numb. When you tried to move, you felt his dense cum flowing down your hips. You didn't even tried to resist when he possessively spread your legs to smeared the mixture of his cream and your blood all over your mound before hanging over you and making you suck on his fingers. Closing your eyes, you moaned at the salty taste and cleaned his digits with your tongue.  No matter how far he could go, you would submit because you trusted him. 

"Good girl." Bateman purred after you finished licking his fingers. He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Why didn't we do this before?"

"Don't even ask." You laughed, looking up at his flushed face.

"I'm not going to leave it like this, darling." He covered your mouth with his, moaning softly at the taste of himself on your lips. "From now on I'm going to have a calendar of your cycle because I enjoyed this too much."

Holly shit.

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Now that we have touched on the subject of body worshipping Aemond… can you please write exactly that? I would also love it if Aemond was flustered or a little shy about it at first, just because I think he isn’t used to such adoration… but you’re like “no let me love you 🥺😡”

HERE YOU GO, MY DUDE, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. 18+ Word count: ~800

You look at Aemond as he sleeps peacefully in the early morning light. The bedsheets have slipped from his bare chest. His Adonis belt leads down to where they drape loosely over his hips - a tempting trail that promises infinite reward. Every scar, every minor imperfection serves only to amplify his ethereal beauty. His long white hair cascades like reams of silk across the pillows. It is rare you get to see him so relaxed. The nostrils of his aquiline nose are unflared, his brow is not furrowed with irritation. Even the scar that runs almost the entire length of the left side of his face seems less angry and inflamed.

It is only recently that he has become comfortable enough with you to remove his eyepatch in your presence. It happened around the same time that the pair of you became accustomed to sleeping nude together. A silent, but significant mark of your trust for each other.

You have been married less than a month and, though both inexperienced, you have enjoyed the thrill of clumsy fumbles and exploration of each other’s bodies that goes hand in hand with the excitement of young love. What the pair of you lack in familiarity with carnal acts of the flesh you more than make up for with enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn.

As your eyes roam his face and naked torso, you are driven by the desire to look upon what lies beneath the sheets. You crawl down the bed, and with a tentative hand you reach out and pull back the bed clothes.

Aemond’s cock lays soft against his slim, muscular thigh, a light dusting of silver hairs decorate the base. The plush swell of his heavy stones rests beneath it. You are fascinated by the sight of it all. You grasp at his flaccid manhood, testing the weight and feel of it in your palm, before sliding your hand along its length. You watch, transfixed, as the skin encasing it moves and retracts with every caress. The bulbous pink head quickly becomes more apparent as he stirs to life under your ministrations.

A sharp inhalation of breath alerts you to the fact that he is now awake. You look up to see that his right eye is watching you with keen interest. You smile slightly, continuing to pull him to full mast.

“Skoros gaomagon jaelā, byka mēre?” He whispers. What do you want, little one?

“To taste you”, you murmur back.

“That is depraved.” He says softly, “Līvi hen Silk Street gaomagon lī ra.” Whores of the silk street do such things.

It is a statement, not a protestation and he makes no move to stop you.

You giggle, before poking the tip of your tongue out to run along the slit at the tip of him. The taste is slightly salty, but not unpleasant. Aemond hisses through his teeth at the contact.

Your eyes flicker upwards to gauge his reaction. His pupil is blown wide with lust, his chest heaves with excitement.

“Ȳdra daor keligon.” He commands. Don’t stop.

Confident that your husband is enjoying himself, you take him fully into your mouth. It is a foreign sensation to take such an intimate part of Aemond into you in such a way, but you do not allow that to halt your actions. 

Recalling what your closest lady in waiting had relayed to you about pleasuring men in such a manner, you hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head back and forth, pulling him in and out of your mouth with the movement.

You experience a rush of exhilaration when you feel one of Aemond’s large hands tangle itself into the hair at the back of your head, soft groans pulling from his throat with every wet push and pull of your mouth.

You panic slightly when he knocks the back of your throat, having to calm yourself in order to remember to breathe through your nose and keep going. Aemond does not seem to mind. His hips have begun to buck in sync with your movements.

When your jaw begins to ache with the force of having his sizable cock forced in and out of you, you pull off of him with a wet pop. Your hand returns to its earlier exertions, allowing your mouth a much needed reprieve.

Aemond’s lower abdominal muscles begin to twitch and tense. The familiar sight of his face contorted in ecstasy is enough for you to know he is close to his release.

When his hips begin to stutter, you move to take him between your lips once more. But you are not quite quick enough and, while most of his spend splatters into your mouth, it also runs down your chin.

You swallow, it is nothing like you expected. The aftertaste has a hint of fennel. You do not mind it. You pull away, strings of saliva and Aemond’s release connecting you to him and dripping off of you. Aemond looks at you with a lazy, satisfied smirk. “Vaogenka riña.” Dirty girl.

[magpie-trove]

Why should our praise and glorification, or even the celebration of this feast day mean anything to the saints? What do they care about earthly honours when their heavenly Father honours them by fulfilling the faithful promise of the Son? What does our commendation mean to them? The saints have no need of honour from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs. Clearly, if we venerate their memory, it serves us, not them. But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.

Calling the saints to mind inspires, or rather arouses in us, above all else, a longing to enjoy their company, so desirable in itself. We long to share in the citizenship of heaven, to dwell with the spirits of the blessed, to join the assembly of patriarchs, the ranks of the prophets, the council of apostles, the great host of martyrs, the noble company of confessors and the choir of virgins. In short, we long to be united in happiness with all the saints. But our dispositions change. The Church of all the first followers of Christ awaits us, but we do nothing about it. The saints want us to be with them, and we are indifferent. The souls of the just await us, and we ignore them.

Come, brothers, let us at length spur ourselves on. We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven. Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. We should not only want to be with the saints, we should also hope to possess their happiness. While we desire to be in their company, we must also earnestly seek to share in their glory. Do not imagine that there is anything harmful in such an ambition as this; there is no danger in setting our hearts on such glory.

When we commemorate the saints we are inflamed with another yearning: that Christ our life may also appear to us as he appeared to them and that we may one day share in his glory. Until then we see him, not as he is, but as he became for our sake. He is our head, crowned, not with glory, but with the thorns of our sins. As members of that head, crowned with thorns, we should be ashamed to live in luxury; his purple robes are a mockery rather than an honour. When Christ comes again, his death shall no longer be proclaimed, and we shall know that we also have died, and that our life is hidden with him. The glorious head of the Church will appear and his glorified members will shine in splendour with him, when he forms this lowly body anew into such glory as belongs to himself, its head.

—Bernard of Clairvaux

[whump-tr0pes]

Lux in Tenebris, Medieval AU - Wolves, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: sickfic, wolf attack aftermath, infected animal bite, fever, mild gore, poultice, delirium, bedside vigil, sleep deprivation, recovery, self-dehumanization

~

The demon could not let itself sleep - not while the human was still so sick. The human slept, in a terrible, waking sort of dream, with their eyes open and their tongue loosened with the fever. They must be sleeping, though, because the creature could not rouse them. It held cool water to their lips, and they would not drink. It held a cool cloth to their forehead, and they flinched away, whimpering softly. 

The only thing that told the creature their soul was still here with it was that they still screamed when it changed the poultice on their leg. The flesh was worse than inflamed, now; it was festering, and stank. The creature shuddered as it applied a fresh poultice with herbs it had gathered in a near-feverish fury of its own. 

The human did speak, though - just not to the creature. They babbled on about trade in the village, the price of barley, the frequency of the rain. They asked for their bed, for a hot drink, for things the creature had never heard of. They asked for something to help with the pain. All this they did with glassy eyes that stared straight ahead at the ceiling. 

The creature grew weary as another day passed and became night. It could sleep on the earthen floor - it had slept on far worse, and willingly would again - but it could not think of sleep with the human so ill. Every time its eyelids drooped, the human would whimper or cry out or mumble something and the creature would startle awake, tripping over itself to bring the human another sip of water or cool cloth for their brow. It trembled with exhaustion, desperate for sleep. It was desperate just for a bite to eat. It settled for sips of squirrel broth that the human had refused sips of as their fever worsened. 

The human now felt hot as an open fire pit. The creature stood above them and wrung its hands, looking down at their bone-dry skin - not even a sheen of sweat cooled them now. It held the ladle of water to their mouth. Their lips trembled, but they did not drink. The creature sank to its knees beside the pallet. Its heart ached in its chest as it looked at the human, who lay flushed and still as death, save for their heaving breaths. Their eyes were closed, but silent tears leaked from the corners. 

“Obsecro,” the creature whispered, shivering in fear to speak his own language even in front of a human so sick. “Non… non mori, benignus humano.” It reached out a shaking hand and rested it on the human’s arm. They flinched away from the touch. “Obsecro non me relinquo. Ego facere… quid possum, sed…” Tears brimmed in the creature’s eyes. “Obesecro. Non me relinquo, cum tu estis tam benignus. Ilya.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, it lowered itself to the pallet beside the human and laid its head on their chest. Their heart pounded beneath the creature’s ear, a thud, thud, thud that sounded so vital, so alive. The creature shivered and squeezed its eyes shut. 

∴

The creature woke to fingers moving softly through its hair. It shrieked and scuttled away from the pallet, fangs flashing, pupils wide and black. Its gaze fell immediately on the human; their hand was still frozen in the air where its head had been moments ago, and a crease had appeared between their eyebrows. But more importantly - so much more importantly - their head was lifted from the pallet, and they were looking at the creature. Really seeing it. 

“I-Ilya,” the creature breathed, before it slapped its own hand over its mouth. The human probably had not meant to tell the creature their name. It was being presumptuous. With presumptions came pain.

The human’s mouth opened and shut. “I… I don’t know what to call you,” they said weakly.

The creature shook its head. “Nothing. You don’t… have to call me anything. Or, rather. You can call me… what you wish.” Inimicus. Adversator. Serpentis.

Demon.

The crease between the human’s brows deepened, and the corners of their mouth turned down as well. The creature’s stomach tightened. The human wet their lips. “But… you know my name…?”

There was something tightening around the creature’s chest, a giant, invisible fist around its heart. “You… you told it… to me,” it said, shuffling forward on its knees, bending forward at the waist. “I am sorry… I meant… no offense.”

“I’m not offended,” the human said, although their voice was tight. “I just want to know how I should refer to the person who has been so kind to me.” 

The creature bent its head low. “I am not a person,” it breathed toward the floor.

The silence that drew out was long and awful. The human said, “Then… what are you?”

Fangs flashed, and the creature whimpered softly. Its fingers dug into the dirt below it. “I am…” Its throat worked. “I… am a lesser demon of the realm of hell.” It bent fully forward and pressed its forehead to the dirt beside the pallet. The human surely did not have their strength, but once they did, they could return with… more humans… to hunt the creature down, humiliate and punish, teach it once again why it had fled to the forest all those years ago…

The creature did not have anywhere else to go. 

It could always dig a new hole in the ground.

The creature held still, trembling, until the human let out a heavy breath. It flinched with the soft sound. 

“I thought demons were supposed to be cruel,” Ilya said.

The creature’s head snapped up. “S-some are,” it croaked. “Some revel in torture and brutality. Some feast on human flesh and misery, yes. But… some don’t. Most don’t.”

The human nodded. “I think if you were going to hurt me… or eat me… you would probably have already done it.”

“I did hurt you,” the demon whimpered, tears welling in its eyes. “Your leg… the poultices. They hurt you. You… you screamed.”

Ilya shook their head. “That’s not what I meant,” they said. They held out a hand. The demon stared at it, eyes wide. “You helped me.”

“I tried,” the creature whispered. 

Ilya kept their hand out, holding its gaze with kind, steady eyes. Slowly, the demon shuffled forward and took their hand. It was cool, now. The creature would never be so bold as to touch their face or head now that they were awake, but it could tell just from touching their hand that their fever had broken. 

Ilya - the human, the inexplicably kind human - offered it a gentle smile. It found itself smiling back. “I… don’t quite have my strength back,” they said gently. “So… could I ask you to bring me some water?”

The demon nodded frantically and staggered across the hovel in its haste to bring them a ladle of water. They drank deeply and passed the ladle back. 

“Thank you,” they said warmly. It couldn’t help but smile. They reached out again, and this time it only hesitated a moment before sliding its hand into theirs. “And… I don’t mean to presume but… would it be alright if I call you Dee?”

The creature’s eyes went wide as it met theirs. “Dee?” it said incredulously. 

The human’s mouth thinned. “If you don’t like it, I don’t have to call you that. I just…” They squeezed its hand. Its heart lurched. “I would like to have something to call you.”

“You want to…?” You want to call me by anything other than what I am? Its head spun. It found itself smiling at them, and they smiled back. “I… Yes. Yes, that would be nice. Dee. That will be… my name.”

“Your name,” Ilya said. “Nice to meet you, Dee.”

“And you,” Dee said. He stared at their hands, laced together on the blanket. “It’s nice to meet you.”

~

Translation of the Latin lines here:

“Please,” the creature whispered, shivering in fear to speak his own language even in front of a human so sick. “Don’t… don’t die, kind human.” It reached out a shaking hand and rested it on the human’s arm. They flinched away from the touch. “Please do not abandon me. I will do… what I can, but…” Tears brimmed in the creature’s eyes. “Please. Do not abandon me, when you have been so kind. Ilya.”

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck ,  @whumps-the-word , @justwhumpitwhumpitgood,  @inky-whump ,  @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf , @wolfeyedwitch , @batfacedliar , @also-finder-of-rings , @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain, @i-eat-worlds

[ladylooch]

What is Mack's reaction to finding out she was busted cuddling with David? Xx

“Oh my god.” Mack moans, stumbling out of her dark bedroom and into the sunny, main area of her apartment. “Jesus take the wheel.” She cries, slapping a hand over her eyes. She squints to her kitchen counter, seeing David there, munching on some cereal. His mustache curls up with this lips joyfully when he sees her.

“Hi honey.” He says gently. “How you doing?”

“Shitty.” Mack moans. She is exhausted and feels like she has been run over by a damn garbage truck. Actually, she feels like garbage. Maybe the truck should have just picked her up instead of running her over.

“Think you could eat some soup? Get some nutrients into you?” He asks, standing up. He walks over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. He was getting nervous watching how shaky she was with each step. Mack leans into his strength, grateful for his help. She glances over at the mirror in her entry way, catching a glimpse of her appearance.

“Oh, fuck me.” She groans. She looks disgusting, like she smells similar to moldy cheese and BO. Then there is David, who looks like some he is about to be chiseled out of stone with his black sweatpants and shirtless chest. “You don’t have to stay.” She shakes her head.

“Ah, I know.” He chuckles, biting his lip as he gets her onto the couch. “But I’m not leaving.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the only place I wanna be.” He leans forward. Mack slaps her hand over her mouth.

“Don’t kiss me!” She mumbles around her fingers. His lips land on her forehead.

“Stop worrying. Just lay there and be useless so you can get better and be my sassy girl again.” He pats her leg. “I’m gonna heat up the soup Lucie brought.” 

“No.” Mack extends the word in shock.

“Yeah. She saw us in bed together.” He sighs, opening up the container from the fridge. He pours some in a microwaveable bowl, then puts it in for two minutes to start. 

“What did she say?” Mack whispers, eyes boring into him.

“Not much, but I wasn’t exactly inviting the conversation either.” He scratches at the under side of his jaw. He leans his palms on the counter top, staring at her. “She asked what we were.” Mack’s eyes slide away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, so I didn’t give her an answer.” Mack’s eyebrows furrow. 

“What you thought?”

“That you aren’t ready for a label.” 

“I’m not?” She asks. “You want me to be your girlfriend?” Her tone is doubtful. David stares at her. 

“I think I’ve made that pretty obvious, Mack.” She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth, looking away.  “But if you wanna keep doing this, I’m fine with that too. I’m not in a rush, buttercup.” He turns back to the microwave, stirring the soup around then giving it a taste test. “Another minute.” He tells her. Mack turns away from him, curling her legs up beneath her.

David Carlson’s girlfriend… Mackenzie Hischier… officially dating a New York Ranger. Mack licks her lips, wanting to ignore the parts of her that long for and are giddy about that idea. She wasn’t looking for this. She didn’t want it either. It became this because David is… David. 

“It’s hot, baby.” The man in question says as he rounds the couch. Mack watches him move a coaster to rest her bowl on. 

“Thank you.” She murmurs. “For last night too. I was in a bad place.” 

“You were. I’m glad I came over.” He brushes her wild hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. His thumb strokes across her red and inflamed skin, irritated from her feverish sweats last night. Mack stares at him, drawing her eyes over the features of this man she has come to care so much for. They have great chemistry. It is so much more than just sexual too. She feels like he knows her heart and soul, and does what he can to keep them both safe. Mack opens her mouth to speak, to tell him that she wants to be his girlfriend too. 

“Yes you can be my girlfriend..” He cuts her off while grinning at her. Mack furrows her eyebrows, mouth dropped open in awe.

“How do you know?” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. He stops her from falling back and away from him in exasperation. He leans down, capturing her lips in his. He inhales her mouth until her lips are puffy and swollen, her nose and upper lip raw from his mustache. 

“Because I do.” 

Mack grabs his shirt, fisting it in her hand to keep him close. She scoots back onto the couch, weakly attempting to pull him down. David obliges, settling a knee between her legs, then easing her all the way back until she is laying on the couch. 

“Honey. You need to eat your soup.” 

“I wanna make out with my boyfriend first.” David chuckles. 

“You’re so obsessed with me.” He teases. His tongue thrusts into her mouth, not letting her respond with words.

Her strangled, blissful moan tells them both all they need to know.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

The Batman (2022) isn't perfect by any means, but it is still a phenomenal film and one of the best pieces of Bat-media in recent memory.

Firstly, the aesthetic. Seemingly small but an incredibly important part. BTAS was broody, '89 was gothic, Forever was campy, TDK was... bad. And TB I think finds a real sweet spot in between vibes. It's dark, serious, it's got a technological noir, and yet still has vibrancy and color and (the key to my heart) neon.

One scene, you'll be sitting in an abandoned tunnel with shadows and muddy colors, the next you'll be surrounded by police under white lights, and the next you'll be in a night club with LEDs of every color you can think.

The fights. This film has some of the best Batman fights I've ever seen period. Really just action in general. The night club, the hallway, the finale. It's not like TDK where every fight is slow, precise, methodical, and honestly boring. Each fight or chase here is energetic and entertaining. The choreography is excellent, the stakes are legitimately high, and the settings are always unique.

The night club is crowded and overwhelming, with people swinging, shouting, and grabbing at Bats who aren't even apart of the fight. His skills and equipment save his life multiple times, whether it's block a bullet with a precise pipe throw or survive a shotgun blast with his armor. When he finally grabs Penguin you feel as overwhelmed and animalistic as he does.

The precinct escape is tight and tense. From the punch to the jump, every second makes you feel the absolute abominable stress of trying to escape a building like this. Officers pouring out of every room, bullets whizzing by and beaming off his suit. Merely seconds to get the flight suit on before they come pouring out to the roof. We experience the fall with him as his nerves spike, all culminating in a quick second decision that ends with him crashing into the side of the road.

Gotham. The beloved city feels full here. Subways are crowded, streets are packed. The crime feels real. Vandals, gang violence, thieves, assassins, crime families. It's not just militants and killers. We see the systemic issues in place that cause these. We see the feelings and social strains that make people do this. It's like you're taking a peak into another world with context and history you don't know but understand. It feels right.

The characterizations. I'm not a huge fan of the whole "Bruce Wayne is the mask, Batman is the real you" thing inflamed by TDK. And I really don't like "the Waynes were corrupt and did bad things, even for good reasons".

I think there's so much more to say about the two very different, very real sides to Bruce's personality. The one that comes out as billionaire playboy philanthropist, and the one that comes out as a violent and vengeful demon. Both who are willing to suffer for their causes. And I think there's so much more when the Waynes die from a mugging. That the crime is so bad it took the highest. That it could take anyone at any time, even the beloved elite.

However it does something right that most other Bat-media fails at. It makes Batman a symbol of hope. It demonstrates a growth in himself. That he can do more good to inspire the people than to instill fear in them.

Pandaredd made a good video on this, but in Crisis On Two Earths, Bats' opposite is represented as the ultimate nihilist. This means that at his core, Batman is really the ultimate optimist. And that makes sense. You don't put on a suit and fight crime, you don't try to create resources to help people, you don't befriend and reform your own Rogues gallery unless you believe you can change something. That all the work you do, all the suffering you experience will be worth it when you get to know the world healed.

And that's something The Batman understands. Batman started as a symbol of fear. So that every criminal hesitates at an alley. Panics at a shadow. But he became something else. A symbol of optimism. So that people can walk the streets at night. That they can get the help they need. That they can look into the sky with hope.

[spicyclover]

Desire is a strong feeling | part two

Summary: Monesgaque Night with the one and only Charles Leclerc. She and he have been friends for a long time, but they have feelings for each other... One night can change everything.

This is part two of “Desire is a strong feeling” : 

Part one

 Enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comment section!

Warning: Smut +18!

Reluctantly, Charles detached himself and placed his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes.

“I can’t do that, Bella, I can’t touch you, I can’t betray Charlotte, it’s wrong...”

Remorse pierced his hoarse voice. She whispered faintly.

“Charles… It’s way too late.”

She breathed so painfully that her throat was tangled with excitement and intoxication. She was dizzy. The Monegasque’s lips pressed to the cheek to wipe a feverish tear from which she was unaware. Then against her temple, on her ear, at the corner of his lips, without ever really kissing her.  

“Charles, please…”

The girl sighed when her friend’s mouth landed on her neck and collarbone and slightly knocked her head back. She so wanted him to kiss her again… She realized it when he seemed ready to stop, to regain consciousness. She did not want him to stop and what was probably the worst was that she wanted, needed more, as her kisses stunned her.

“I…”

She sighed a little louder this time, then bit her lip. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, as if… She didn’t answer for herself. Even if Charles' hands were now placed on the railing and no longer on it, his kisses remained light, as if he resigned himself to detach himself little by little. She didn’t want him to leave, not now. She resigned herself to expressing aloud what was repeated in a loop in her head.

“Charles, touch me, please…”

He suddenly stepped back and planted his dark eyes in his own. Her gaze was inflamed by a devastating passion, so intense that the heat inside her ignited her pelvis. He shone with lust; this sentence pronounced by her is enough to sign his loss.

Again he approached her and suddenly caught her lips with ardour. With fervour and passion, as if he put his whole soul into this kiss. He wanted to possess it, to possess every part of her body. He wanted her so much it made him suffer.

Charles grabbed her waist, and the fabric of her dress creased under her fingers. She clung to his torso and became even more attached to him, and she could feel through Monegasque’s clothes how excited he was. Flames grew in her as he touched her. She was thinking of nothing but him at that very moment. Maybe it mattered if it was evil or immoral. So much desire had taken hold of it. Hunger embraced her soul and virgin heart, a completely new hunger; she wanted it so much that she wanted to cry.

While keeping the young Monegasque against her, he gradually retreated to the interior of her apartments and stopped at the foot of his bed. The girl recoiled, and her trembling hands rested on the buttons holding her friend’s shirt. Feverishly she began to undo it. Charles' hand landed on her hand to help her with her task, and she finished removing the garment.

Immediately, her gaze embraced her finely muscled torso, slightly tanned by the Mediterranean sun, sublimated by the moonlight in the bluish night, and the redness again invaded her cheeks. She suddenly felt intimidated by Charles and his green eyes full of desire. She had never found herself in such a situation. She barely knew anything, while he seemed to want her whole in the way he devoured her with his eyes. When Charles again captured her eyes in his own, her desire intensified to the point of her heart, which he eagerly embraced. Hypnotized by her body, she passed a timid hand on the young man’s hip, then on his abdomen and went up to the muscles of his bust, and he trembled at her touch. He took his hand in his and kissed his palm, the tips of his fingers.

Then the young man’s hands gently rested on the closing of her dress, which he detached slowly without leaving her lover’s eyes. He slid the fabric over the shoulders, and the dress fell to the ground, revealing the girl’s fair skin, her underwear in delicate black lace, her round and light chest rising to the rhythm of her breath, and her firm belly. He devoured her with his eyes.

“Mon amour…, he said, you are beautiful…”

She looked down, embarrassed. He gently dragged her, holding her by the waist, to the large bed with silky burgundy blankets. Lying above her, he leaned on the mattress to observe her, to look through her forms. With a tender hand, he caressed her belly and stopped reaching her chest

His eyes seized hers, then he passed his fingers behind her back to undo the bra she was wearing. She sighed with impatience as Charles' lips came to kiss her mouth, jaw, and neck, which he bit slightly, her collarbone, and then finally rested on her breasts. She moaned when his mouth kissed the tip and closed her eyes to savour the sensations he gave birth to in her.

Then the Monegasque resumed his descent, leaving a flesh to burn on his skin. He kissed her belly, and his tongue played with her navel, then, reaching the height of her underwear, ignored it to come and kiss her thigh while caressing her soft and smooth leg. She sighed with frustration, wriggling a little. Her belly grew tighter, and envy and desire seized her.

Charles smiled against her warm skin and went up to the lace panties. He looked with passion and lust as if to ask permission. The glittering and lustful in her eyes were enough to answer him. He slid the end of the cloth along her legs with an inordinate slowness, then removed it completely. She was completely naked under him, waiting for him to caress her. She was so beautiful and so erotic as well that it excited the young man more.

“Please…”

At her supplication, he introduced a finger, then two, into the burning and damp intimacy of the girl who will camber herself. He went back and forth lasciviously, and she groaned. He consumed her, and the pleasure spread through her at a mad speed; she was so close . . .

He took off his fingers as he felt her getting lost in the caresses he lavished on him.

She did not have time to protest that Charles' tongue took over, titillating her pimple. Her eyes opened as she jumped and turned uncontrollably. A wave of sensations broke through her, and her moans became heavier. Her fingers clung to the Monegasque hair the deeper she sank in enjoyment. It was so good that she felt that she would never have enough. About him, his caresses, the way he touched her.

Suddenly, her intimacy tightened, and a flash of pleasure stronger than the previous ones was repainted in her lower belly. She shouted Charles' name as the orgasm seized her so intensely. He stood up and kissed her, and she blushed as she tasted herself on the young man’s lips.

Her cheeks were red, her hair slightly tangled, and her eyes sparkled. 

“Tu es tellement belle, mon amour,” he whispered in her neck.

She was not aware of her beauty, which seemed innocent. Still, tonight, by the light of the stars, her face reflected the same desire, her blue eyes stunned, His naked body and white, velvety skin were the most beautiful things that Charles had been given to see, and he wanted only one thing. That It belongs entirely to him, this night at least…

He couldn’t wait any longer as the urge was strong. He then pulled on his last garment and took off the underwear that revealed his manhood in her eyes, who blushed even more. Charles positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing slightly against her.

Her body bowed against him to make a deeper, more fleshy contact that he refused to give him. She groaned with impatience and frustration, panting so much she wanted it. It was as if he enjoyed seeing her suffer thus, imploring. His feverishness and sensuality, thus arched under him, only increased the eagerness and lust of the Monegasque.

“What do you want, Angela?” He asks.

A dull moan passed her lips, and she bit them. 

“Say it…”

“You… I want you…”

He squeezed himself a little more against her. She felt she was going to die because she was so hot and eager for him. He kept torturing her like that, kept torturing her. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Charles… take me!”

With a moan, he finally entered her. A cry of pain crossed her lips, mixed with the pleasure the contact gave her. A tear fell on her cheek. He stopped moving for a few moments as she got used to him and kissed her closed eyelids. Then, under the order whispered by her, he began to move slowly. The pain began to disappear gradually, and the pleasure flowed back into her veins.

Charles accelerated his movements, and this time she let a moan of delight slip. The more he moved, the more her sighs intensified, each more lascivious than the other. Charles's burning, sweating skin against her, his mouth sometimes on her neck, sometimes moaning her name or kissing her chest helped bring her closer and closer to the enjoyment, the point of no return. She will turn against him again, deepening the penetration.

“You are mine, bel’…”

“Charles, tell me I love you, Charles!”

“Qu… Quoi?”

“Even if this is not true, I beg you…” She hardly panted. “Say it for me!”

"I love you," said Charles, continuing to speed up the back and forth.

A discharge of pleasure poured into her. Her head turned, her mind misted. The pleasure flooded her body, so violent and powerful that a long orgasmic cry escaped from the young woman’s lips. She had never known such enjoyment, so dazzling and so delicious.

The sight of her carried away by the orgasm, her wet body, her swollen and pink lips, beating lashes and blowing enough to propel Charles in his wake. He articulated his name in a hoarse cry and poured himself into her. Gently he withdrew from her and lay down beside her, kissing her lips again. He grew the girl’s hair from her face and gazed at her intensely.

She was still breathing with difficulty, her eyelids heavy. She felt so good against him, but something tormented her nonetheless.

“Charles, she whispered, and if… if anyone…”

“No one will know, Belle, I promise. But if it disturbs you, I can also promise you that it won’t happen again, even if I won’t stop wanting you no matter what happens…”

“No! I… I mean… If I wanted it to happen again? Charles, I…”

She could not formulate what she wanted to tell him, it was too hard for her, and her mind was too confused. She knew what they had done was wrong, but she could not regret it. However, she feared what would happen next, how the relationship would be between them if Charles returned to Charlotte and forgot about that night… At this thought, fine tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Bella, don’t cry.”

Charles grabbed her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him, turning her head gently and tenderly. He had this guilt in his heart. He felt a little bad about his girlfriend and the girl he loved, the girl in front of him.  As soon as he plunged his eyes into her own, he could not feel any regret either.

“I can’t bring myself to ignore ourselves as we did before… I cannot resolve myself again to cold words,” she said in a tiny voice, tears continuing to flow without her being able to hold them back. 

He wiped them from his lips in a kiss that caressed her skin.

“I would never ignore you, Bella. I was doing it to keep myself away from you because I couldn’t be in your presence without wanting you as long as it was unhealthy. If you knew how I feel for my coldness… It was the only way. I didn’t want to, couldn’t yield to temptation, because I have Charlotte. I could not resist what I felt for you tonight; even though we were not destined to be together, I don’t regret anything. I know it won’t be easy, Bella, that no one can know, but I can’t bring myself to walk away from you again.”

She gently placed her hand on Charles's hand, which was already on her cheek, and whispered.

“I don’t care, Charles, that you’re in a relationship. I can’t see you like that… And I don’t want you to walk away from me, never, I…”

She stopped in her sentence. She was shaking.

“It’s okay, Belle, I’m not leaving. Not tonight, jamais je te quitterai.”

He kissed her forehead, then her wet cheek.

“Bella…”

She kept her eyes closed and couldn’t stop crying.

“Look at me.”

The Monegasque voice was tender but firm. She slowly opened her eyes to meet his green gaze. 

“I love you,” He repeatedly said while kissing her lips.